


plateslinger⊖⊘⦶⦸◌݆

by sonshineandshowers



Category: Prodigal Son (TV 2019)
Genre: Gen, Humor, Spoilers through 1x20, Stress Relief
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-28
Updated: 2020-04-28
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:41:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23896975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sonshineandshowers/pseuds/sonshineandshowers
Summary: Malcolm takes Jessica for a little mother/son bonding time.Light spoilers through 1x20.
Relationships: Malcolm Bright & Jessica Whitly
Comments: 10
Kudos: 39





	plateslinger⊖⊘⦶⦸◌݆

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ProcrastinatingSab](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ProcrastinatingSab/gifts).



> i've had this idea for a long time, but ProcrastinatingSab said do it, so now it exists

“We’re here, Mother,” Malcolm indicated, and they both got out of Adolpho’s car.

Jessica looked up at the brick storefront. _The Rage Cage_. “We came all the way to Brooklyn for this?” she asked, unimpressed, looking around. She smoothed her hands over the casual wear she had on at Malcolm’s insistence.

“I picked the perfect activity for you.” Malcolm smiled and extended his elbow to her.

“This better not involve your axes,” she warned, taking his arm and letting him escort her inside.

“For you? Something even better,” he promised.

They completed waivers and accepted bundles from the attendant. “You expect me to…“ Jessica complained while he pulled a white protective suit over his clothes. “What are we, painters?”

Malcolm popped an orange construction helmet on his head and flipped down the safety visor. “C’mon — sooner you put it on, sooner we get to the fun.” He pulled on black gloves as the last piece of protective equipment.

“ _Fun_ , says my son.” She rolled her eyes and stepped into the suit. The things she let him get her into in the name of his happiness.

In matching uniforms emblazoned with roughly markered _The Rage Cage_ across the back, Malcolm led Jessica to their activity room for the evening. Plywood covered the walls, and a stack of materials waited for them on a black utility table.

“Not the Ritz,” Jessica snarked. “What are we even doing here?”

Malcolm strode across the room and locked eyes with Jessica. He picked up a plate from the table and dramatically smashed it into the floor, shards of ceramic flying everywhere. How petulant child of him.

“What are you — “

Malcolm smashed another one, a grin on his face.

“Alright, then.” She surveyed the wreckage and interpreted the activity room was a cage they could unleash their rage in. She had some of that trapped beneath her practiced smile. “I can see the appeal.”

“Try one.”

She collected the white ceramic into her fingertips, appreciating its weight along the lip, and hurled it against the big red and white target on one of the walls, shattering into a spray of pieces. She picked up a second in quick succession, throwing it to join its friend.

Malcolm chuckled. “Those are fine to throw at the wall, Mom. Electronics need to stay on the benches or floor.”

“Electronics?”

Malcolm gestured at the selection of old VCRs, printers, and other devices on the table. “Pick your destructive implement of choice, and you can turn these to smithereens.”

Jessica looked at the back wall. Baseball bats, crowbars, sledge hammers — “What, no stilettos?” she complained.

“I’m sure I could find you a pair.”

“They’re in my purse since you made me change into these godawful sneakers.” She shook her head.

“Do you want me to get them?”

“Yes.”

Malcolm left the room, and Jessica dove into the stack of plates, smash after smash hitting the walls, the floors, even approaching the ceiling, littering the space in a sandbar of crackling shells. Soon the stack was gone, and she evaluated her next choices, selecting a VCR to throttle with the side of her gloved fist.

“Mom.” Malcolm reentered, her black Louboutins in hand. He glanced around the room, taking in the scene. “Try to use some sort of implement — don’t want to hurt yourself.”

Jessica took her shoes from him. “These are more my style. You can have fun with the weapons.”

“Do you want some more plates? I can pay for more up front, and you can have an unlimited supply for the next thirty minutes. Well, twenty-five,” he double-checked his watch.

“Yes, dear.”

Jessica tested out hammering the VCR with the heel of her shoe, a delightful tinging sound littering the air. What if one of her heels slipped when she saw Martin? What if it conveniently found his eye? What sound would his vacuous skull make? _Crunch, smack, thunk_ — she managed to snap some of the plastic at the face before Malcolm reappeared.

Malcolm returned with a huge stack of ammunition for her, and she left behind the VCR she had pinged several dents into with her heels. He selected a crowbar out of all the implements and set up at another table further away from his mother. With an overhead swinging crack, he left a sizable fold in the top of the VCR.

“Let it out here so you don’t put any more holes in my walls,” Jessica encouraged, hurling another plate. She alternated between imagining Nicholas’ or Martin’s face and bonking it with the ceramic and watching her son release his own torment.

With each subsequent hit, pieces of VCR started breaking off, joining the ceramic bits on the floor. His temples grew sweaty, and the inside of his visor started to fog with the vigorous activity. After several minutes of the repetitive motion, there wasn’t any sign of the VCR left.

“Go for the printer next,” Jessica recommended. “Always did hate the sound of those.”

“Come try a hit,” Malcolm suggested, handing over the crowbar and stepping back. “Give me a breather.”

She tested the weight of the crowbar in her hands. Took a baseball swing at the side, cracked the plastic, and sent the whole device to the floor in a thud.

“Way to go, Mom,” Malcolm cheered.

She kept going, kneeling over it on the floor and swinging the crowbar down over the top, throwing fractured bits of plastic several feet across the space. She thought to give the crowbar back to Malcolm to finish, but when she went to do so, she realized any trace of the printer was gone. “Well, you get the next one.” She returned the crowbar to Malcolm.

He traded out the crowbar for a sledgehammer. “You can pick anything from the back wall if you want,” he encouraged. “You’ve got a mean swing.”

“Pretending it’s your father’s head,” she shared. “Or Nicholas’ — the bastard.”

“I’ll second Endicott,” Malcolm said, pounding the sledgehammer into a video game console.

They continued unleashing their fury into the remaining plates and electronics, only stopping when a buzzer sounded that their time was up.

“We’ve gotta go, Mom,” Malcolm instructed, returning all of the implements to the wall.

She collected her heels and pouted in the middle of the room while he finished.

“This was fun, huh?” He guided her out of the activity room.

“The most I’ve had in a long time.” She squeezed his arm.

They deposited the safety gear back at a collection table and stepped out onto the street.

“Can I take you to dinner?” Jessica offered.

“Sure, Mom,” Malcolm accepted.

“Maybe we’ll do this again when your sister’s trial starts.” She considered the many reasons she wanted to throw and hit things and welcomed the concept of doing it in a space her staff wouldn’t judge her.

“Anytime you want. Don’t keep it in, alright?”

Malcolm moved to give her a hug, and she faltered before pulling him in, surprised by the gesture. He stepped away and opened the car door for her, waving off Adolpho. “Let’s get dinner.”

“You have to promise to eat more than one bite,” she scolded as Adolpho started the drive.

“I’ll give you two,” Malcolm teased, holding up two fingers.

“Destruction Engineer.” Jessica poked his side.

“Plateslinger.” He stuck his tongue out at her back.

They sat in each other’s company on the way to the restaurant, for once in a relaxed silence.

* * *

_fin_


End file.
